As I heard her footsteps on the stairs, I figured why not, so I pulled down my pants and relieved myself of the sexual pressure I was feeling. Once done, I walked up the stairs. I heard her upstairs in the shower. I scampered up behind her, but I found the door to her master bathroom locked. What a bitch. I descended the stairs slowly thinking, what is this woman up to? I went to her kitchen. I rinsed the plates from dinner and placed them in the washer. I decided to cook breakfast for us. I opened her refrigerator. Orange juice, eggs, bacon. While the bacon cooked, I searched again and I found some onions, ham, green peppers and cheese. I found a 6 inch frying pan. As I turned the omelet I was making, she walked in the kitchen. “Hhhmmm. That smells good.” I turned as she stood there in her bathroom robe, drying her hair. No make-up and dripping wet she looked incredible. Although I released my pent up frustration earlier, my manhood started to rise again. She came to me and squeezed. As soon as they both lowered their weapons I returned to my brother. Betty Mae looked up to find me at her side. I took hold of the area she was squeezing and applied more pressure which seemed to completely stem the flow of blood.“It looks like a clean wound,” I said. “There’s no spurting, so the artery seems good. Rory! Where’s the doc?”Just as I yelled the question to my baby brother, the deputy came running up with an older man. The older man quickly looked things over and opened his satchel and pulled out a length of white gauze. He looked at me in a commanding fashion and I removed my hands and pulled Betty Mae’s dress away. He quickly applied a small wad of cotton to the entry wound and a large amount of cotton and gauze to the exit. He then quickly wrapped the leg with a long gauze. The entire process was pretty familiar to me.“Army?” I asked the old man.“Confederate. You got a problem with that?”“Nope, my brother here was a Captain in your sides cavalry.”“Well then, in that.
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